Stalemate
by Jedi Amoira
Summary: Mild DA2 spoilers. Fenris finds himself at loss for how to approach Hawke after his hasty departure. Has it put an end to their relationship as well as their evening? But he can't sit around brooding when Aveline comes to tell him Hawke has need of him.


**Disclaimer**-Much as I might wish otherwise, I do not own DAO, DA2, any part of Thedas, or any character there-in. I greatly appreciate Bioware allowing me to play with them for a little while.

**Notes**- For now, this is a stand-alone fic. I suspect it will eventually become a collection of fics and snippets as these things tend to do. If anyone has title suggestions for such an eventuality, I'd like to hear them. I can't see how it matters, but in case it does, at this point, I envision this fic as taking place in the same universe as the DAO Fragments Fics. For any readers familiar with my other stories, I would like to assure you that while progress may be infrequent, none of my fics have been abandoned. Reader interest and reviews do tend to help keep me interested. *hint, hint* I feel like there was something else I intended to add here, but darned if I know what it was.

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><p>Fenris knew he ought to go and see Hawke, make it clear that while he'd left her house that night, he had no plans to leave the city, no plans to leave her life. But... he simply didn't know how to tell her that, what words to say.<p>

He hoped it would come to him, with time.

He half-expected _her_ to come to him, to say the right thing, as she so often did.

He wasn't sure, though, whether her understanding, her warmth, would make things better, or only make them worse.

If he'd lost her good opinion... well, he could live with her anger, as long as she let him remain by her side. But if she told him she to leave... he wasn't sure he would survive it.

He longed to see her walk through the door and he feared to face her.

And so he tried to keep busy, tried not to remember the look in her eyes, the carefully-controlled neutrality of her face as he'd walked away-run, really.

He wasn't sure how long this stalemate of feeling would have persisted if it hadn't been for Aveline.

Aveline who came to tell him that Hawke was preparing to escort Merrill to Sundermount to visit the Dalish.

As if the prospect of Hawke alone in the wilderness with that damned witch she seemed determined to regard as harmless wasn't cause enough for worry, her only back-up should something go wrong would be the Abomination. Anders.

While Aveline distrusted neither of them to the extent Fenris did, she was a bit uneasy that she couldn't accompany them, if only to lend them a solid, physical presence to discourage bandits... or templars.

Fenris didn't have to ask why Aveline-or Hawke-hadn't asked Varric to tag along-the dwarf hated the outdoors. He would have suffered it for any of the three of mages, had he been asked, but each of the three liked the dwarf enough they would have hated to ask it of him. Aveline respected that, and, though he wished he didn't, so did Fenris.

Sebastian, of course, had his duties to the Chantry to think of... besides which, while Hawke seemed reasonably comfortable with his status and he with hers, he might well decide to step aside and let the templars have their way... if only to prove he took those forsworn vows of his seriously.

Fenris might have been able to ignore the impulse to step in, if he could have delegated the responsibility to Isabela, but... well, charming as the pirate woman was, he couldn't help but agree with what he knew to be the guard captain's unspoken assessment-Isabela was as likely to get Hawke and the others into trouble as she was to get them out of it... and that was if he was being generous. So Aveline, apparently unaware of the way things stood between him and Hawke at the moment, had come to him.

And, just as she'd expected, Fenris had sighed and assured her he'd take care of it.

Take care of her.

"Hawke."

The look of surprise on Hawke's face was almost painful to behold... if only because it seemed to echo her expression when she'd walked into her entryway and seen him sitting there that night... Fenris suppressed the shudder of discomfort and desire that threatened to quake through him with a sigh.

"Fenris!" she said, as she had said then, though the inflection was different. That night... that night, it had been mostly surprised, with, he thought, a faint undercurrent of pleasure.

Now, though...

She said his name as though it were a prayer, a fear, a hope, a plea, a curse. Affection and anger, surprise and doubt, hope and despair mingled through her voice like raindrops sliding down a window, merging together. There was a reverence there, too, as she were looking on something she held to be valuable beyond measure... and the sound of it, the sound of his name, the name of a slave being spoken in such a way... was enough to make him want to weep.

"Fenris," she said again, and he was both relieved and disappointed to find it sounded more mundane. "What are you doing here?"

"Going with you, of course," he said as if this were obvious.

Hawke blinked. "What?"

"To Sundermount," he explained, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows with his thumb.

Hawke pulled back slightly, flinching from his touch almost as if she'd sensed it, and folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself for protection... or comfort.

The sight hit him like a slap. One he no doubt sorely deserved.

"Why?" the question was guarded, measuring. It reminded him of the way she'd spoken to him outside of Danarius' mansion, when he'd confronted her nature, and she'd confronted his... resentment.

"I have a better question," he said, his anger suddenly flaring back into life, though he wasn't sure if it was the current situation or the depth of the feeling that had, if not replaced his distrust of mages, had at least superseded it that bothered him, "what are you thinking? Three apostate mages wandering the countryside-two of them consorting with demons as they do it! Just one open invitation to every demon and would-be bounty hunter in the Free Marches!"

"This is hardly the first time we've left the city," Hawke retorted, her voice quiet, but as sharp as he had ever heard it. "I can handle demons-and you know as well as I that no one human seems interested in the three of us. Well, other than to rob, at least."

"This is the first time you've left the city without Aveline... or me," Fenris countered roughly. "Luck doesn't excuse stupidity. Life can change-or end-at any time. It only takes a moment. I thought you-of all people-knew that."

He wasn't sure if her expression changed for the briefest instant, or if he registered her wince of pain with some other sense, some knowledge of her that went beyond the skin. Or if he'd simply imagined it.

"I do," she said, sounding weary, sounding sad. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. "But what do you want me to do about it?"

"The same thing you've always done," he rasped, his fingers flexing against his palms, against the need to reach out and seize her, pull her into his arms and hold her close. The need to protect her. "Take me with you."

"Why?" Hawke said again, but the word was different. Less guarded, less controlled. "You don't even like Merrill-or Anders! And I thought... you... Do you even _want_ to come?"

Fenris felt his lips quirk. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Hawke shrugged slightly, pulling her arms tighter across her body and leaned back against the wall, feigning indifference. "For the moment," she said bitterly.

"I suppose I deserved that," Fenris sighed wryly.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Yes," she said dryly, "You did." And smirked. The expression was faint, but it was there. And it pulled at his heart in ways he couldn't have imagined only a few days before.

The two of them looked at one another, the weight of things unsaid pressing down upon them.

Hawke rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Look, Fenris, I... appreciate your concern... but rest assured, you don't owe me anything; I'm a big girl. I'll manage to solve my own problems if and when they should occur. So don't do me any favors."

"Hawke," Fenris said slowly, "Your problems are my problems." The words seemed to resonate along his skin, vibrating along the markings like a bell tolling doom. Or salvation. Maybe both, if such a thing were possible. "I... uh... that is... I was given to understand that's what it means..."

"To have a friend?" Hawke finished inquisitively, but her eyes were gentle. Accepting.

Of its own accord, Fenris' hand drifted up to touch her cheek. The silken skin seemed to sing against his fingertips. Hawke startled, then froze, then startled again, her aquamarine eyes flickering wide. Her tongue darted out to trace the edges of her lips, as if she found them dry... or in invitation. But that had to be wishful thinking, however much he might long to take her up on it, to lean and press his lips to hers. "Yes," he grated, then paused as he felt a tug at his upraised wrist.

Hawke had caught the ends of the red scarf wrapped around his gauntlet between her fingers. She rubbed her fingers together, sliding them across the fabric as if evaluating it. She gave them another inquiring tug then and angled her eyes-still wide with... surprise? hope? disbelief?..._something_-to look directly into his, searching.

Fenris looked back, meeting her gaze without hesitation. "I am yours."


End file.
